Talos Bound
by FireHeart19
Summary: A thieving Dunmer inlists the help of two Khajiit in finding a sealed away treasure
1. The Dunmer

He ran through the forest with surprising ease, his sandy hair waving through the wind behind him and his eyes glowing, bright rubies on his pale skin. His dark armor made little noise as he rushed over leaves and fallen trees with the same effort. Finally after a chase over a mile, the guards had lost him.

His name was Azrath, a 300 year old dark elf who had left Morrowind's relative safety in search of use for his "skills". He was a thief, assassin, and master hunter among other things. He had gray pale skin with numerous scars from many valiant battles. His eyes were large, even for a still young Dunmer, and brighter red. Even with his dark air and raspy voice, he seemed to be well loved by many, namely the thieves and assassins of Tamriel. He wore a suit of ebony, as well as the boots and gauntlets, and used Mehrunes blessed Razor in hand-to-hand combat.

"Finally got it!" he whispered cheerfully as he pulled from his pocket a solid gold Amulet of Talos, the only one to be blessed by the Divine himself. Azrath knew the power of the amulet was only for the Dragonborn, but it would fetch a fair price in any market. He pocketed the rare item and proceeded to call for his horse.

The horse was larger built then most, having been the horse of an Argonian warrior before the dark elf's arrow took a liking to his scaley chest. He was black with a blood red mane and matching eyes. The mare was known by Azrath as Dagger, because of his natural ability to pierce any climate swiftly. Azrath mounted his steed and with a fast _crack _of the reigns, he was off toward his homeland of Whiterun.


	2. The Khajiit

Kuzarath sighed in frustration as his brother once again ran off. He wore simple light steel armor, which he shined daily and buffed so it looked brand new, and his fur was softened down, grey with a solid white line down his head, neck, and back. He and his brother were the only Khajiit left out of a family of five.

His brother ran back, out of breath. "Kuza, look what I found!" he held up a small coin purse, obvious dropped along the road, "Lussk, what have I told you about running off?" Kuzarath was less than pleased, and his dark hissing voice showed it.

Lussk was Kuzarath's younger brother. He wore steel plated armor which was dusty and dented, but Lussk did not mind. Lussk's fur bristled up and was solid white, but for the red streaks of fur down his arms. To show this birthmark, Lussk had shortened the sleeves of his armor to show off his muscled arms.

Lussk had always wanted to be an accomplished warrior, and this goal often caused him to make thoughtless decisions. They turned out well, but Kuzarath swore they would be the end of him some day. Kuzarath, meanwhile, relied on planning and execution to get through situations. His main goal was to eventually find a peaceful home and settle down, maybe join a tavern as a Bard. He loved his lute and played at night when they would camp.

"Lussk, it is almost dark. Let us go find a place to rest." Kuzarath was tired from his brother's adventuring, and he never liked to be out on the road at night. "There's a hold nearby, Whiterun." Lussk was consulting a map he had on his person. "Good, let's go already!"


	3. Meeting a thief

As the Khajiit entered the Bannered Mare, they noticed almost immediately the crowd around the bar. People with pieces of meat or mugs of alcohol listened intently as a Dark Elf told a story. Kuzarath sat nearby and listened to him, while the much more outgoing Lussk stood right in the crowd.

"I had just left The Winking Skeever, having taken a ruby ring off one of the Imperial lasses, when I noticed a somewhat richer prize: a shining gold amulet worn by that annoying elf from the clothing store. So I walked into her shop after her, my eyes never leaving the thin gold band that held the necklace. That damned Imperial never saw me, I just pulled a rag –one of her own! –over her eyes and pushed her down, then snapped the amulet off her. Of course she made a squeal to end all, so I ran for the front gate with guards pursuing me! Took miles for them to give up!"

Kuzarath, upon hearing this, could hardly believe his ears. But before he could say anything, Lussk spoke up. "That is nothing, any coward can hide and take something, true warriors take what they want by honor!" Kuzarath almost cursed, when the elf stood up, almost a full foot taller than Lussk, and stepped right in front of the young Khajiit.

"Is that so, furball? And how would you know? You look like you've never had a true fight." Lussk at this point was just inches from the thief, and angry, "You question my skill, elf?" The elf just smirked, "No skill to question, kitten." Lussk yelled and slashed his claws across the painted face of the elf.

He staggered, but returned with a blow right into Lussk's throat. Lussk hissed and drew his steel sword, swinging it through the air. It met an ebony sword. The elf was grinning, amused. "Then we shall battle." Suddenly, blades swung through the air and clashed in a flurry of moves from two well trained fighters.

Finally, Kuzarath hissed out "Lussk! Put down the blade! You too please, Dunmer." Kuzarath was worried for the both of them; he wanted no blood spilt over nothing. Lussk sheathed his sword, and the elf did the same. He held out his hand, covered with an ebony gauntlet, and Kuzarath shook it. "My name is Azrath, welcome to Whiterun." Azrath smiled. "And mine is Kuzarath, my overconfident brother is Lussk." Lussk glared at his brother, "Overconfidence is better than fear, Kuza." Azrath answered, "True, but everyone has a match. Do not let confidence blind logic." Kuzarath nodded, agreeing. They all went to the bar, and Azrath used his newly acquired coin to buy them each some mead and meat for the night, even though Kuzarath insisted he could afford it. At the end of the night, the elf wished the two brothers a good night and walked out of the inn, vanishing into the night.

Before the two retired to their rented rooms for the night, a guard spoke up, "You got lucky he liked you Khajiit, he's been known to pull a special dagger from his boot and slash throats if he's been crossed." Lussk just shook his head, knowing full well he was too smart for that


	4. A feast with the Jarl

The next day, the brothers awoke feeling like they were being watched. As it turned out, a courier was standing in the doorway. "You have been invited to a feast with Jarl Balgruuf the Greater today at noon." The courier tossed them a coin purse attached to a note: _"Get some fancier clothes. – Thane Azrath of Morrowind." _

Kuzarath changed into his finest blue tunic and leggings, while Lussk refused to change. "I wish to show this Jarl a true warrior, not people like his Thane." Kuzarath gave up arguing with his brother for the time being, and they headed up the steps to Dragonsreach.

There, Azrath was there. His once messy hair had been thoroughly combed and his pale skin cleaned of dirt and dust. He was in a brown leather tunic and wore over it a hooded cloak, with black leggings and boots, "Ah, there you two are! Come, let us feast." Lussk and Kuzarath followed Azrath into the palace, where the middle fire was burning brightly, and the Jarl sat at the end of a table ordained with silver utensils.

"So this is the warrior and the bard my Thane has told me about. Sit and the servants will, well, serve." Kuzarath and Lussk sat across from each other, with the Jarl and Azrath on the ends. "How did Azrath know I was a bard?" Kuzarath realized Azrath had never even heard his playing. "You carry a lute in your pack, I figured you played it." Lussk spoke up, spitting out part of a rabbit's haunch, "My brother is the best bard in all of Tamriel, no contest! He plays Ragnar the Red amazingly!" Kuzarath hated bragging, but his brother had nothing against doing it for him.

"Oh, is that so? Why don't you play for us, Khajiit?" The Jarl seemed pleased to hear a good song. Kuzarath loved to play, so he stood and slid his Lute out from his bag. "Well Ragnar was one of the first songs I ever learned, like many others, and I love the ending, so here goes!"

The Khajiit sang with a booming but on key and graceful voice, and played with a professional skill: "Ohh there once was a hero named Ragnar the red, who came riding to Whiterun from old Rorikstead… and the bragger did swagger and brandish a blade, while he told of bold battles and gold he had made! But then he went quiet, did Ragnar the Red, when he met the shieldmaiden Matilda who said: 'Oh you talk and you lie and you drink all our mead! Now I think it's high time that you lie down and bleed!' and the braggart named Ragnar was boastful nomorrreee, when his ugly red head rolled around on the floor!"

Everyone clapped happily, and Kuzarath sat down to eat a venison chop and sip some cool wine. Suddenly, Azrath stood and cleared his throat, though his voice was raspy anyway. "My new friends, I am afraid this was not simply a casual feast. I have an offer for you."


	5. Proposition

Azrath had led the brothers out to the giant balcony of Dragonsreach, and as they took in the air of Skyrim, he explained, "There is a ruin we have uncovered. One sealed and protected by the Dwemer for ages." Kuzarath looked at Azrath, unimpressed, "You mean to tell me you want us to scour a useless ruin? For what? Metal? For soul gems?" Lussk was at this point practicing his sword technique in a corner, not caring about the boring elders.

"No, for the armor of the mighty Talos." Azrath whispered it, as officially Talos worship was still illegal. Kuzarath quietly gasped, having only read legends of such a tomb, "Are you sure, Dunmer? Why would Talos have died in a Dwemer ruin?" Azrath pulled from a satchel he had been wearing a small, old scroll, and opened it. It was written in very rushed and scratchy handwriting. "This was Talos's last note as a man. To the Jarl of Solitude. It tells of a battle between the ancient Nords and the Dwarven. A great treasure, and the legendary armor of the lord Talos himself, was buried when the Dwarves activated a great lock that sealed the entire building and Drougr ruins. Now, hundreds of years later, a courier's remains were found by an Argonian warrior and the note brought to Solitude. Then Tallius, may his traitor blood drip like syrup onto the Nordic blades, sent it here. For the Companions. But Balgruuf would rather hire a few men than pay the Companions huge sums and then just have the armor given to a careless warrior."

Kuzarath was thoroughly interested. "So then this is for Balgruuf to wear?" Azrath grinned and with a quick glance to check for eavesdroppers, he leaned in to the Khajiit, "No. As we speak, members of the Dark Brotherhood are transferring my belongings to an abandoned home outside of Solitude. We will take the riches for ourselves and disappear from the Jarl." Kuzarath's mind immediately jumped to the thought that the Jarl might know of this plan, or that Azrath may betray him and his brother. "How can I trust this, Azrath?" Azrath stood, and a ball of fire appeared in his hand. But it glowed strangely. The Dunmer put the hand over his heart and his eyes glowed yellow, "By the blood of my ancestors and their eternal flame, I swear by it." Kuzarath had seen this binding before. It was rare though, and Dunmer rarely liked to use it, in case the promise was broken and they lost their link to the ancient elves. "Alright then, elf. We will accompany you. I'm sure Lussk would love such a treasure. And I might enjoy the bounties locked away for years." Kuzarath extended his fur covered paw and Azrath did the same with his pale hand. They shook, and agreed to meet that night as the moon reached the sky's center at the stables.


End file.
